


Three's Company

by rotg5311



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bounty Hunter Din Djarin, Crime Fighting, Crime Scenes, Crimes & Criminals, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Gangs, Kidnapping, M/M, ManDadlorian, Mentions of Prison, Multi, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Team Up, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, din djarin rides a motorcycle, ex-con migs mayfeld, mafia, us marshal cobb vanth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28681464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotg5311/pseuds/rotg5311
Summary: US Marshal Cobb Vanth enlists Ex-Con Migs Mayfeld for help on finding an old partner in crime that's been on the run for some time. After a run in with Bounty Hunter Din Djarin and a near deadly shootout, the three of them team up for maximum coverage. Despite the sass, tension, and mutual pining the three eventually become friends of sorts. Just when their adventure comes to an end Din receives a phone call informing him of Grogu's kidnapping by infamous Mafia boss Moff Gideon, sending the three on an even more dangerous rescue mission.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth, Din Djarin/Migs Mayfeld, Din Djarin/Migs Mayfeld/Cobb Vanth, cobb vanth/migs mayfeld
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

Cobb leaned back in the seat of his car, trying to remain inconspicuous as he watched the man across the street. The man, who had been hard to track down due to his new alias seemed simple enough. In fact, had Cobb not known just who he was looking for he would have said this was just your normal, average middle aged man doing yard work on a Thursday afternoon. Still, faces don’t lie, and the picture on Cobb’s phone matched the man he had been following all day.

He stepped out of the car, looking both ways before he crossed the street. It wasn’t on coming traffic he was worried about per say, but more of the threat of being followed himself. So far, nothing. But the deeper he went into this case the more likely he knew it could happen.

“Are you Bill Burr?” Cobb asked, standing on the sidewalk near the man’s house. Of course that wasn’t the man’s real name. Using that right off the bat might cause him to run, and Cobb knew just how slippery this man could be. If he made a break for it and Cobb lost him he might not find him again. Besides, it was Texas in mid August. If he could avoid a chance in this kind of heat he would. He may have been born and raised in this weather but that didn’t make it any more enjoyable.

“Depends who’s asking.” The man said, stiffening. Clearly the only people who would approach him like that were criminals or cops, and he knew it. Cobb knew it, too.

“US Marshal Cobb Vanth.” He said, going straight for it. He flashed his badge out of protocol. Of course he could tip toe around it, try to weasel out the information he needed one way or another. But that took time, time that he didn’t have right now. “I was-”

It was all he managed to get out before the man was running. He sighed, grumbling to himself before following. Chasing down suspects had always been his least favorite part of the job. And while he was no where near retiring, he also wasn’t a fresh young pup anymore. That mixed with the brutal summer heat crashing down on his body and Cobb knew he was going to be rougher than necessary once he caught up with the man. If he caught up. Someone shorter and slightly stockier than him shouldn’t be so damn fast.

They ran though the back yard, hoping over a fence that was just a little too high. Cobb’s feet hit the ground, sending a twinge up his leg. It would bother him later, but as long as he could move now he’d be fine. They sprinted past a couple who dodged out of the way with only seconds to spare.

“Sorry.” He said out of habit. Whether or not they heard didn’t really matter. It was the thought that counts.

The man sprinted across the street, running in front of a car. Cobb could see the panic in the drivers eyes as she slammed on the breaks. The car stopped inches away, just missing him, and Cobb picked up speed. The man had dodged the car, tilting his body away into a turn that had slowed him down just enough for Cobb to gain the upper hand. They made it out of the street, onto the sidewalk, and then Cobb was tackling the man on someone’s freshly cut lawn.

“No!” He called out as they went down, slamming hard into the ground beneath. He struggled for a moment, but Cobb’s entire weight sat on his back made it impossible.

“Migs Mayfeld, you are under arrest for accessory to murder, aggravated assault, and three counts of breaking and entering and burgulary.” Cobb told him as he slapped the handcuffs around his wrists. “Oh and you can slap evading arrest onto the list, too.”

“Fuck you.” Mayfeld spat from his place on the ground. By now the neighbors had begun popping their heads out of windows and doors to see all the commotion. It was time to go. Cobb didn’t want local police involved in what he had planned. Things would be easier that way.

“Come on.” He hauled the man up, finally taking a good look at him. Despite the rough tumble down he looked fairly unfazed, albeit pissed off and defeated. Cobb ushered them back to his vehicle.

“Hey, don’t manhandle me, bumpkin, I can walk on my own.” Mayfeld snapped, trying to pull away from Cobb’s firm grip. He didn’t budge.

“Bumpkin?” Cobb questioned, quirking an eyebrow. Even without reading up on Migs Mayfeld’s background he could easily tell he was from the Boston area. His accent was thick and his attitude was standoffish. He should have expected a little attitude, especially with what he had planned.

“Am I wrong?” No. Or not really, depending on how you viewed the word. Clearly Mayfeld meant it as an insult. Cobb just rolled his eyes and vowed to manhandle Mayfeld as much as possible. He’d find a punishment for the bumpkin comment, too.

They approached Cobb’s black unmarked car. It had no cage separating the front from the back, but it was equipped with standard police lights. He stopped on the passenger side of the car, giving the area another once over. No prying eyes. Good. Unfortunately Mayfeld noticed the hesitation as well.

“I think you’re supposed to put me in the car. I mean I’m no expert, but…”

“You should be. You’ve been arrested enough times” Cobb shot back. Still, he didn’t make a move to throw the man in the back of his car. They stood for a moment, Mayfeld growing tense as he tried working out scenarios in his mind. Surely none of them made sense, and the truth wasn’t likely to either. 

“You’re a hard man to find, Migs.”

“Mayfeld.” The man corrected, eyeing him suspiciously. With Cobb’s tight grip on his shirt Mayfeld couldn’t run. He wouldn’t get far with the handcuffs anyways.

“Fine. Mayfeld. You’re hard to find, but the guy I’m looking for is even harder to track down. That’s where you come in.”

“Look, Buddy I can’t help you. I’ve been out of the game almost ten years.”

“I know. That means the statute of limitations is almost up for a lot of the stuff you’ve done.” Cobb reminded him. “Almost, but not quite. Now I can help you if you help me. Or I can bring you in, and with a list like yours I wouldn’t be surprised if you went away for good.”

It was just the kind of leverage Cobb needed over a man like Mayfeld. It was the only way he’d get any help, and he had been working this case for years with little success. Like it or not, help is just what he needed. There was a sigh of defeat and Cobb knew he had him just where he wanted him. Maybe things would start going easier from here on out.


	2. Chapter 2

Working with Migs Mayfeld was anything but easy. He was rude and crass and even oddly funny at times. But he was by no means easy to work with. In fact after the fifth time he had brought up just how much he hated Cobb for doing this to him, Cobb was just about ready to put one of their heads through a window. Still, he took a deep breath and tried to brush it off. He was well equipped to deal with a few complaints and like it or not he needed Mayfeld’s help. And Cobb pointedly did not like it.

“Geez, can’t we listen to something else?” Mayfeld slammed his head back against the head rest with a loud sigh. “I know you’re a dirty hillbilly and all, but isn’t there anything else you enjoy besides Country?”

In truth Cobb only mildly liked Country music despite hisSouthern upbringing. It was good for a song or two every once in a while. But it clearly got under Mayfeld’s skin and was good payback for all the ‘hick, bumpkin, and cousin fucker’ comments the man loved to spew. Cobb may have been raised in the South, but he had lost the thicker tones of his accent long ago from spending so much time North, moving from state to state for work. Instead of replying he just turned the volume up a few notches.

“Lovely.” Was the man’s reply. He swung a leg up, crossing one over the other to get a better look at the device Cobb had snapped into place around his ankle. A modified ankle bracelet that required close proximity to Cobb at all times. Neither of them were particularly happy about it, but it was the only way he could ensure Mayfeld wouldn’t run again. “So you change your mind about this thing yet?”

Again Cobb said nothing.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

“And you never shut up.” He finally said, letting a fraction of his exhaustion slip out. The sooner they finished this case the better.

“You’re forcing me to come along, the least you could do is entertain me.” Mayfeld said, placing his foot back on the ground. He spread his legs, leaning partially against the window to look at Cobb.

“You can entertain yourself.” He said, ignoring the innuendo clouding his mind. From the look on Mayfeld’s face it had clearly been intentional.

“Not in any way you’d like.” Mayfeld snorted. Cobb glared at him, taking in the man’s appearance. Maybe. Maybe not. But it wasn’t an actual option on the table. 

“So can you stop talking? Is it a medical condition or do you just choose to be annoying?” Cobb asked. He shouldn’t engage, he should just get in and out and wrap up this case without a hitch. But something about Mayfeld’s demeanor begged Cobb to interact.

“Oh it’s definitely medical. In fact, unless I’m sucking on a fat cock I physically can’t stop myself from talking.” Cobb pointendly didn’t look his way, though he couldn’t stop the heat rising to his neck. The sooner they finished this case the better, indeed. “You know, uh, just some food for thought, Marshal.”

Cobb put on his best poker face. He refused to even think about what Mayfeld was suggesting. But the way he had called him Marshal had Cobb interested. Instead he decided to deflect. “So what can you tell me about your contact?”

“It’s the best way for me to get you to where you need. I’ve been out for a long time, but I still have guys who owe me.” Mayfeld shrugged. “All we gotta do is show up.”

“Can you trust him?” Cobb asked, though he knew the answer already.

“Of course not. But you don’t have another choice.”

It was the truth and Cobb hated it. The government had been chasing down Werner Herzog, aka ‘The Client’ for years. It was why Cobb had been stuck with him when all else failed. Unfortunately he was the best of the best. Even more unfortunate was just how good The Client was at hiding. He was harder to find than a needle in a needlestack. Mayfeld was just about his last chance and Cobb was willing to take it.

The rest of their ride was silent. Or silent on Cobb’s part at least. It was amazing just how much Mayfeld could talk despite being ignored and told to shut up on numerous occasions. He didn’t even talk about anything in particular. And surprisingly enough Cobb found himself genuinely interested at some point. He wasn’t exactly sure when the change had occurred, but figured it was somewhere in between conspiracy theories and good food joints in the area.

They pulled off at a rest stop due to Mayfeld’s insistent nagging. Sadly bathroom breaks, food, and even sleep were things Cobb just couldn’t avoid. He climbed out of the car stretching his legs and back. Despite all the driving he had to do for a living Cobb had never fully gotten used to it and enjoyed quick breaks often.

“You gotta follow me in there, too?” Mayfeld gave him the stink eye.

“I gotta go, too.” Cobb returned the look.

“Sure you do. Pervert.” He replied, heading to the rest stop bathroom. Cobb waited a few minutes, waiting until Mayfeld exited before he entered. The less time they spent together the better, and given the circumstances Cobb would take it on the rare occasions he could. Thankfully Mayfeld was leaned against the car on his return. At least he wouldn’t have to chase him down again. Though even if he did manage to break his way out of the ankle cuff there wasn’t anywhere for him to go. They were in the middle of nowhere on a highway surrounded by miles of woods.

“As long as you’re taking requests, can we get something to eat? I’m starvin’.” Mayfeld said as he nodded somewhere up the road. “I know a great little place a few miles out.”

“Is this the one with the rats?” Cobb wrinkled his nose at the memory of the story. He had seen his fair share of dirty restaurants and wasn’t keen on adding to the list.

“Oh so you don’t talk but you do listen. Good to know. Makes things a little less boring.” Mayfeld seemed genuinely surprised. Cobb shrugged it off. He may not particularly like Mayfeld, but he wasn’t a complete asshole. Besides, there wasn’t much else to listen to. “And this place is clean. Mostly. New management really did them a solid.”

Cobb considered his options. Eventually they would need to eat, and with a few hours until they had to meet up with Mayfeld’s contact they had time.

“It’s on me.” Mayfeld threw out as a last resort.

“Fine.” How could he argue with free food? Besides, Mayfeld couldn’t talk if he was eating. Hopefully.


	3. Chapter 3

Apparently even food didn’t stop the flow of conversation, though Cobb found that with a full meal in his belly Mayfeld was easier to handle. He had even managed to make Cobb chuckle a few times, which was something. Mayfeld wasn’t exactly someone Cobb would enjoy going on a stakeout with, but sitting around waiting for the Contact wasn’t completely unbearable.

“You can’t come with me.” Mayfeld argued once he found out Cobb’s plan.

“I’m not letting you go alone.” Was Cobb’s reply. Clearly he was the only one with any sense in his head.

“I got the bracelet on, I can’t run.” He gestured angrily at his ankle, voice rising in frustration.

“Yeah cuz if you do it’ll beep. And if you take it off it’ll beep.” Cobb didn’t tell him there was a slight delay in the last case that would give Mayfeld a few seconds to escape. There’d be no keeping an eye on him if he knew that. “But you’re still not going alone. I don’t trust you.”

“I never said you had to! But you can’t come with. You reek of cop.”

“I’m not a cop.” He reminded the man.

“Oh my god. Cop, Marshal, FBI, traffic guard. It doesn’t matter, he’ll smell it on you from a mile away.” Mayfeld gestured down Cobb’s body. “You’re dressed like a cop and he’s going to take off the minute he sees you.”

“How am I dressed like a Cop?” He looked down at his clothes as if forgetting what he wore that morning. It wasn’t his uniform of course. Just a plain shirt tucked into plain pants.

“The shoes are a dead giveaway, for one.” He rolled his eyes as if it was obvious.

“They’re standard issue.” Cobb replied.

“No shit. Plus you got your shirt tucked into your pants. You know who does that?” Mayfeld quirked an eyebrow.

“Cops?” Cobb sighed.

“Cops.” He confirmed.

“Then I’ll stay off to the side out of sight, but you’re not going alone.”

For a moment they stared at each other, weighing their options. As far as Cobb was concerned this was the only option they had.

“Fine.” The agreement was nice but not necessary. Cobb was going regardless. “But don’t say anything.”

“Fine.”

“I mean it.” Mayfeld shook a hand in Cobb’s direction, emphasizing the point.

“Fi-ne.” Cobb over emphasized the word with a dramatic eye roll. He’d stay quiet and out of sight as long as nothing went wrong. He couldn’t promise anything if things went sideways.

“And you could at least give me a gun.” Mayfeld said, not for the first time. Just like every other time Cobb denied him the opportunity to shoot his way out of there. He didn’t fancy having a bullet in his skull.

“Nice try.” He sent Mayfeld a smirk and a wink out of habit. To his dismay Mayfeld seemed immediately receptive of it.

“Hey save that for later. I don’t want to be distracted, I need a clear head for this.” The smugness radiated off him in waves.

“I wasn’t-” Cobb began to argue only to be cut off.

“I know, I know. I’m irresistible. But I’m on the job, you’ll have to wait.”

Cocky, arrogant, and not entirely wrong. Mayfeld had an air about him that drew Cobb in like a magnet. Unfortunately that pull was becoming harder and harder to ignore. It was strange considering Mayfeld wasn’t his usual type but hey, the cock wants what the cock wants.

“On the job?” He decided to ignore the beginning half of the sentence and focus on the latter portion. Unfortunately Mayfeld was right about keeping a clear head as well. “You’re not working, I am.”

“Hey, you dragged me into this. I’m working for my freedom. That’s just as motivational as monetary gain. Even more so.”

Right again. Cobb didn’t like it, but he wasn’t about to argue. If Mayfeld was about to give this case his all then so be it. Hopefully it would make things easier.

“Alright it’s time, lets go.”

They left the car far enough away from the warehouse that no one would see it. It may be unmarked, but it would still give him away if the contact saw it. Even that was something the two of them could agree on. They walked toward the buildings, looking for any sign of an ambush. This may be the best way to get a hold of The Client, but they were still meeting up with a criminal. Caution was key.

He broke off from Mayfeld, walking over to some oil drums. It was one of the few places he could hide in plain sight and still provide back up should Mayfeld need it. Unfortunately it left his back exposed, but there were no other options. All things considered their plan just might work. Mayfeld walked a few feet away, stopping just by the door of the warehouse. As long as the contact didn’t try to get him inside things would be ok. If they did, well things had the potential of devolving real fast.

Waiting had never been his strong suit. Still, he crouched silently, peaking through the space between drums in wait. Minutes ticked by dragging into an eternity before the warehouse door finally opened revealing a short, stout man with a wild mane of grey hair that encompassed his head. Ranzar Malk. Cobb had seen his case file and even heard bits and pieces from Mayfeld. Ran may not look like much but he was more than a little dangerous.

From the second Ran appeared Cobb noted the way Mayfeld’s stance changed. It was similar to when he had first met the man, though looking back he wasn’t exactly sure when it changed. Mayfeld seemed more at ease with Cobb, less hostile. And he supposed that was the case. The most Cobb could do was smack him around some and then lock him up. Ran could do infinitely worse, no doubt.

They greeted each other with a firm handshake that Ran quickly turned into a hug. Mayfeld tensed momentarily then relaxed into it. He smiled and said something unintelligible. Cobb rolled his eyes. Any other time Mayfeld was loud. Figures the one time he actually needed to hear what the other man was saying he would talk in a normal voice. Oh well, subtlety was key. Ran replied with a laugh, gearing up to say something more fully, trying to usher Mayfeld inside. Cobb swore under his breath as he waited for Mayfeld to make an excuse to stay out in the open. They had talked about it in depth so if he put even one toe inside that warehouse Cobb would throttle him. He couldn’t provide back up if he couldn’t see and he wasn’t about to risk letting Mayfeld run again.

But before Mayfeld could offer up one of the many excuses he had a man appeared. The tension was instantly palpable and a flicker of recognition crossed Mayfeld’s face.

“Fuck.” Cobb didn’t hear Mayfeld’s word as much as he saw him speak it with a scowl on his face. Clearly there was bad blood between the three of them because Ran looked just as pissed off at the newcomer.

Cobb let a hand fall to his holstered gun. Obviously he couldn’t just start shooting without reason, but he could see the man had a weapon attached at the hip, too. No doubt Ran had one on him or nearby. This could easily turn into a shoot off. Fuck indeed.

The three of them started talking which quickly turned into an argument. Mayfeld was aggressive with his many hand gestures but the Stranger held his ground, looking just as calm as he had when he walked up. Or at least he did from the back. Cobb couldn’t see the full picture from where he was. Just as he began contemplating revealing himself or not he saw Ran swing. A mistake clearly, he could tell from the size difference between them. Sure Ran had the obvious weight advantage, and it took a lot of muscle to carry around that kind of fat. But the Stranger was taller, and even from that distance Cobb could tell he was fairly muscular himself.

Before he could make a move Mayfeld had inserted himself in the situation and received a prompt elbow to the face, splitting the skin with a spray of blood, followed by a punch to the stomach that had him doubling over. Cobb drew his gun, emerging from his hiding spot. The Stranger spotted him instantly and released Ran from the chokehold he had managed to get him into in the few seconds Cobb looked away. A quick draw and the two of them stood feet apart, guns trained on each other.

“Federal Marshal Cobb Vanth. Drop your weapon.” He ordered, noting the way Ran scurried off at the mention of law enforcement. Damn. This asshole just blew their entire operation.

“Show me your badge.” The man said back, eyebrows furrowed behind large, dark aviator sunglasses.

“After you drop that gun.” He eyed the man once more. He wasn’t wearing a police uniform, though something about him hinted at law enforcement.

After a few seconds the Stranger slowly lowered his gun and reholstered it. A moment later Cobb did the same. He reached in his back pocket for his badge, flashing it toward the man.

“Sorry, Marshal. I didn’t realize anyone would be in the area.” The sentence may have started out with ‘Sorry’ but it by no means sounded like an apology.

“Uh huh. And who might you be?” He eyed him again suspiciously.

“He’s a fucking asshole is what he is.” Mayfeld said, holding a hand to his head. Blood dribbled down the side of his face, staining his fingers red. Head wounds bleed a lot, and Mayfeld hadn’t been hit hard enough to make Cobb concerned about a concussion.

“Din Djarin.” The man ignored Mayfeld, focusing solely on Cobb. Despite the large tinted glasses covering the man’s face the intensity of his unseen glare was still a lot to handle. Cobb bristled, wondering just who the hell this Din guy thought he was. “The guy you scared off had quite the bounty on his head.”

Ah. A Bounty Hunter. Cobb snickered internally, careful not to let it show. Where he came from Bounty Hunters commanded a certain amount of respect. In his line of work, however, not so much. Cobb himself could swing either way, though he could tell from the Strangers demeanor he was used to the former rather than the latter.

“Well I’m sorry about that.” He took a few steps closer to the Bounty Hunter, eyeing him carefully. The man would still be going after Ran. So would Cobb. As far as he was concerned they could work together. “But I need him for something a little more important.”

“I’m sure you do. Once I arrest him I can let the local police give you a call.” He folded his arms across his chest, tilting his head slightly. It was a clear invitation for Cobb to fuck off. He respectfully declined.

“See, that just won’t work for us.” Cobb said, instantly regretting it. Me. Never us. Not with someone like Mayfeld.

“Us?” Din scoffed, finally acknowledging Mayfeld, who had taken to cleaning up the cut on his forehead. “Since when do Marshal’s work with Skinheads?”

“Oh fuck off, wiseass.” Mayfeld snapped, taking a few steps forward.

“Mayfeld, enough.” Cobb interjected before the two of them could start another brawl. “Din, was it? I’m thinking the two of us can help each other out.”


	4. Chapter 4

Convincing Din to work with them was nearly impossible. Almost but not quite. In fact the man seemed to vehemently disagree until he found out Mayfeld was also wildly opposed to the idea as well. After that it was easier. Cobb rolled his eyes, not wanting to touch the weird little pissing contest these two men had with a ten foot pole. But as long as he had an extra set of hands to help Cobb was willing to let the two of them bully, harass, flirt, or whatever they wanted with each other. As long as they caught Ran, which led to much bigger fish, Cobb was willing to deal with them. Or at least he thought he was.

“I want to go home.” Mayfeld complained yet again.

“Not until I get what I need.” Cobb reminded him. Once again Mayfeld was being difficult for no reason. Or at least for no good reason. So he hated the Bounty Hunter Cobb was forcing him to work with. So what?

“Then lock me up.”

“No.” He wasn’t sure what had happened between the two men, and at this point he didn’t think he wanted to. Was Din that much of an asshole that Mayfeld was willing to go back to Prison to get away from him?

“This is bullshit.”

“Uh huh.” He nodded in an attempt to appease the man. Sadly they had spent enough time together for him to know that Mayfeld was going to complain regardless of what Cobb said. Ignoring it was easy. “What exactly do you know about this guy?”

“Like I said, he’s a dick.” Mayfeld had used many choice words about Din up until this point. None of them actually told Cobb anything about the man. “He’s part of some weird biker gang cult and is the reason I got locked up a few years back.”

“He’s part of what?” He squinted, replaying the words in his head to see where he had misheard.

“I don’t know. It’s a big cult that rides motorcycles. I never asked for details. All I know is that he’s had it out for me since I uh-” Mayfeld paused, thinking over his words.

“Since you what?” He rolled his eyes. Mayfeld may hate Din because the man arrested him a long time ago, but he was sure Din had a valid reason for reciprocating. Mayfeld must have done something petty or stupid or both.

“I may have taken his bike for a joyride…. and crashed it.”

“You what?” Cobb exclaimed. He knew just how touchy motorcycle people could be. Ruining the man’s motorcycle, on purpose as Mayfeld’s story was leading him to believe, was fair game for hatred in Cobb’s book. All he had to do was make sure they didn’t tear each other’s throats out for the time being.

They pulled into the motel after Din, who reluctantly told them it was the only one in the area. It was late, Ran was on the run, and they were too far from Mayfeld’s home to turn back now. Unfortunately they had to regroup and come up with a new plan. He didn’t particularly like this plan of action but it was the most practical. Cobb climbed out of the car, pausing when Mayfeld followed him.

“No. You’re staying here. If you go in looking like that, they’ll call the police.” Cobb said, gesturing to the man’s face. Despite his efforts to clean up there was still a trail of blood surrounding a nasty looking gash above his right eyebrow. Getting the cops called on them was a complication he’d like to avoid.

Mayfeld complained per usual, but stayed put. He gestured toward Din, who made his way over. Even in the dim setting sunlight the man kept his sunglasses on. Strange, but Cobb had seen worse.

“Keep an eye on him a minute, will you?” He tilted his head in Mayfeld’s direction. He couldn’t bring him in to talk to the attendant but he didn’t want to risk leaving him alone either.

Din huffed and nodded, moving closer to Cobb’s car. Ignoring the new stare down he entered the main building, making a beeline for the front desk. The attendant seemed bored and uninterested. Perfect for going unnoticed. They spoke for a moment, he paid for a room, and she handed him a key card, wishing him a good stay. Her nose was back in her phone before he even left the office.

Thankfully everyone was in the same spot he left them in. He exchanged numbers with Din, promising to meet there early in the morning. The man still seemed unenthusiastic about working together, and Cobb couldn’t blame him. He didn’t particularly enjoy working with people either, yet here he was teaming up with a wanted criminal and an abrasive bounty hunter. There was something poetic about it that he didn’t care to think of.

“Let’s go.” He grabbed his bag, leading Mayfeld down and around the side of the building. The motel seemed shabby, but clean enough for one night. Mayfeld walked side by side with him, throwing odd glances in his direction several times. Cobb waited for him to say whatever was clearly on his mind, yet it never came. He paused outside the room with the matching number on his keycard. Mayfeld stiffened.

“One room? You really don’t trust me, huh?” He asked as they walked into the room. Cobb flipped the light switch and groaned internally at the dim light that flooded the room. Unfortunately it gave off more of a sexy mood than he was comfortable with. “Oh come on, two beds? The least you could’ve done was make this fun for us.”

“I don’t have to trust you.” He repeated the other man’s words from earlier that day, making a beeline for the bed on the left. It was the one closer to the window, and he would sleep easier knowing he could hear if Mayfeld tried sneaking out either way. “And what’d you expect? A California King?”

“Would’ve made sex easier.” Mayfeld shrugged as if it were nothing. He flopped down on the opposite bed ignoring the look of disbelief Cobb shot him.

“So are you physically capable of having a serious conversation or do you just choose to joke about everything?” Cobb could feel himself bristling and tried forcing himself to relax. Mayfeld said it with such ease that he couldn’t tell if the man was joking or not.

“Hey, I’m not joking. I keep dropping hints and you keep ignoring them.” Another shrug. His eyes burned holes in Cobb’s side as he ignored Mayfeld, instead choosing to rummage through his knapsack.

“I can’t sleep with someone in my custody.” Cobb told him, fumbling with the clothes in his hands. He didn’t actually need to look through his bag, but making eye contact seemed less than desirable in the moment.

“I’m not in your custody. We’re working a case. Partners.” A small laugh. “Or whatever makes you feel better about it, Marshal.”

Cobb was silent for some time, feeling his shoulders tense significantly with each passing second. He placed his bag on the ground and paced the room, stopping by the bathroom to peer in. At least that was clean. His mind was racing in a way that he wished it wouldn’t. It should be simple enough. Legally speaking, sleeping with Mayfeld could complicate things. It had the potential for allegations he’d rather avoid with a ten foot pole. And yet… There was just something about Mayfeld that made Cobb want to jump his bones. He always did have poor taste in men, but never this bad.

“You’re awfully laid back for such a serious request.” Cobb finally said, eyeing the man sprawled across one of the beds behind him. If it wasn’t for the blood that still covered his face, he’d look almost peaceful.

“Still waiting on a serious answer. Not a no isn’t exactly a yes.” Was the only reply he received. Once again, and Cobb was beginning to hate just how often it was, Mayfeld was right. If Mayfeld had tried making a move it would’ve been easier for Cobb to say no. But as it stood now he had a choice. Fraternize with a criminal in his custody or don’t. Why did such a simple choice have his heart racing?

Cobb dug through his bag once more, producing a simple first aid kit. Next he grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom and soaked it. Warm and damp and thankfully not white. He approached the side of Mayfeld’s bed with the items, ignoring the eyes locked onto him. Mayfeld sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, spreading them slightly to let Cobb stand between them. Cobb told himself there was no reason for them to be so close, but then decided his other option was to sit on the bed beside the man. Standing seemed like the safer option until he could talk some sense into himself.

Hesitantly, he wiped at the blood on Mayfeld’s face. There was a lot and it had long since dried, so Cobb found himself cupping the man’s chin to scrub the filth off. Mayfeld said nothing and Cobb still avoided eye contact. They were close now. Warm thighs so close to his legs, just barely touching him. He tensed again, unable to relax.

The closer he got to the nasty looking gash, the more gentle his actions became. When he finally had all the blood cleaned off Mayfeld’s face, Cobb dug around for an antiseptic wipe. One of the gentler ones as to not hurt him. The gash didn’t look too deep. It was nothing that would need stitches. Still, why be overly rough if it could be avoided?

The warmth radiating off of Mayfeld was intoxicating. Cobb found himself leaning in closer than he meant to and scowled. Briefly he let his eyes flicker to Mayfeld’s own and found a brilliant shade of bright blue locked onto him, threatening to swallow him whole. Cobb cleared his throat and focused on the cut once more. Next came an antimicrobial cream that he rubbed in with delicate fingers. Mayfeld twitched slightly, eyebrows furrowing before he relaxed into the touch again. The touch of Cobb’s hand on his chin that was no longer necessary. Still, he didn’t let go.

Finally a bandaid. It looked unconventionally large, and could probably come off in a few hours. But for now he’d make Mayfeld leave it on, for keeping the cut clean if nothing else. He moved his hands to cradle Mayfeld’s face, cupping his cheeks and pulling him closer to look at the wound more carefully. Almost all of it was covered by the bandaid. Mayfeld should be fine. Cobb should let go of his face. But he didn’t. Foolishly he let himself make eye contact again, inhaling sharply as he did so. Mayfeld looked… interested. Like he wanted to lean in and close the tiny distance between their lips. And maybe Cobb wanted him to. Still, not a no wasn’t a yes, and Mayfeld was waiting for permission Cobb just couldn’t give him.

He pulled back slowly, watching the space grow between them like a cavern. Mayfeld looked about as disappointed as Cobb felt. He reached up, tentatively touching the bandage and smiled. 

“So? How’s it look, Doc?” Mayfeld wiggled his eyebrows. Well, eyebrow. One sat covered, though the bandaid moved as a whole with the motion. Cobb cleared his throat and sat on the opposite bed, across from Mayfeld.

“Like it might scar.” He frowned, but it was the truth. There was no way to know then, only time would tell. But Cobb had a sneaking suspicion it would leave a mark permanently, even if it was tiny.

“Oh well, I got plenty. What’s one more?” Another shrug had Cobb wondering how the other man could be so nonchalant about everything. He shook his head and kicked off his boots, internally curdling at the way it caught Mayfeld’s attention.

“Woah, settle down, Cowboy. Let’s take it slow. I undress you, you undress me.”

“You still on that?” Cobb took off his belt next, watching the oval Longhorn belt buckle shine in the dim light. He should really change into something more comfortable, but he didn’t like the way Mayfeld looked like he’d devour him if he did. He especially didn’t like the fact that he just might let him do it. For now this would have to do. 

“You still haven’t given me a yes or no.” Mayfeld’s fingers twitched at his sides. Cobb rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly in disbelief. The determination was flattering. “Oh come on, relax.”

“I am relaxed.” Another lie. Cobb hadn’t been this strung out in a while. His mind teetered back and forth between wanting something he shouldn’t and thinking of all the potential consequences of going through with it anyway. The worst part was just how cocky Mayfeld looked, as if he knew the turmoil going on inside Cobb’s mind. He hated the fact that it made him want to jump the man more.

“Not enough. Just lay down, I’ll give you a nice massage, get those kinks rubbed right out.” His smirk had Cobb tingling all over.

A massage? When was the last time he had one of those? It did sound nice after all. Plus those strong hands had caught Cobb’s attention more than once. They were working hands, rough and used. He shivered at the thought of them on his bare flesh. Then against his better judgment Cobb was stripping his shirt off, nerves alight under Mayfeld’s intense gaze. He laid on his bed, crossing his arms under his head and looking toward the window rather than at the man who shifted closer.

“This is the closest thing to a yes as you’re gunna get.” He mumbled just loud enough to be heard.

“Wait are you serious?” Shock laced his voice, momentarily making Cobb doubt his actions. “...Cuz I will.”

“Mayfeld, I’m a ‘say it once’ kinda guy.” Cobb told him more confidently. For a moment nothing happened. Then the bed dipped next to him and Cobb ignored the voice in his head screaming at him for being an idiot, instead focusing on the warm fingertips that ran up his sides.


End file.
